Fate40,000-The Greatest War
by Demon's Dance
Summary: In the Grim Darkness of the Fourty First Millennium There is only war; constant, unremitting, unrelenting war. So much has been lost in the time since humanity first set forth to conquer the heavens, but now old knowledge has emerged from the depths of an era long forgotten. And this Ritual, this "Holy Grail War" May be the key to Humanity's salvation, or the tool of it's demise.


_It is the forty first millennium. For more than a hundred centuries the Emperor of Mankind has sat immobile on the golden throne of earth. He is the master of mankind by the will of the gods and master of a million worlds by the might of his inexhaustible armies. He is a rotting corpse writhing invisibly with power from the dark age of Technology. He is the Carrion lord of the vast Imperium of Man for whom a thousand souls are sacrificed every day so that he may never truly die._

_Yet even in this deathless state, the Emperor continues his eternal vigilance. Mighty Battle fleets cross the Daemon infested miasma of the warp, the only route between distant stars, their way lit by the astronomican, the psychic manifestation of the emperor's will._

_Vast armies give battle in his name on uncounted worlds. Greatest amongst his soldiers are the adeptus astartes, The Space Marines, bio-engineered super-warriors. _

_Their comrades in arms are legion: The Imperial Guard and countless planetary defense forces, the ever vigilant Inquisition and the techpriests of the Adeptus Mechanicus to name only a few._

_But for all their multitudes, they are barely enough to hold off the ever-present threat to humanity from aliens, heretics, mutants, and far far worse. to be a man in such times is to be one against untold billions. It is to live in the cruelest and most bloody regime imaginable._

_This is a tale of such times. _

_Forget the power of science and technology, for so much has been forgotten._

_Forget the promise of progress and understanding._

_For in the grim darkness of the far future there is only war._

_There is no peace amongst the stars, only an eternity of carnage, and slaughter, and the laughter of thirsting gods._

_**Fate/40,000**_

**Deep within the warp: The Hidden Library.**

What is time to a god? How would one measure it in the grand scale of the universe? After all, if time was relative to those perceiving it would one not simply be able to create their own concept of time? And if one simply did create their own concept of time would it have any affect on their actions?

Humanity was long a creature of time, struggling so hard to accomplish so much in as little time as they had; After all the life of a mere mortal is fleeting and unimaginably cramp. This was not quite the case for one such being, as he had an eternity to walk about the cosmos because he was a concept. An expression of a thought, a thingymewhat that most couldn't possibly conceive, let alone comprehend on its deepest level.

There was no fooling the master of change, nor was there any escaping his clutches, as he was an indestructible concept given form in the twisted miasma of the warp. All of the warp seemed to move at his touch, convulsing and throbbing according to his will.

The warp was not a place as any normal human would have perceived their own world, it was a bubbling cauldron of emotions, psychic energies and immaterial thoughts. And as such the labyrinth in which the great Chaos god Tzeentch had concealed himself inside of was no mere physical maze, but rather a chaotic labyrinth of thought and emotional illusion. It was a place where up and down had no such meaning. Left and right were mere fantasies, no one but his greatest champions had ever navigated his mighty puzzle, and as they themselves were mere extensions of his own will, it meant that no singular physical being had set foot inside his great forbidden library.

It was in this place that the Great god Tzeentch pondered over a curious tome. His hand scraping across the psychic manifestation of knowledge gently; the warp paper feeling crisp beneath his touch. His hand charged with energy as it convulsed and writhed, changing shape every now and then. A claw, a human hand, a hoof, and several other appendages took the form where once a hand might have been.

His eyes all narrowed towards one passage, a ponderous area detailing a very elaborate ritual. The god of change for the first time in so long was truly intrigued. As a god representing the very nature of hope and change, he found himself drawn very much so towards the concept of this ritual.

It would normally seem so convoluted and overly complex to the more feeble minded, but it entailed the hopes and dreams of humanity, their desire for change. whether from the past, the present, or the future there was some driving factor behind each of the participants.

The very nature of the ritual empowered Tzeentch to action, it was something that he couldn't believe he had not seen before.

"(A Holy Grail War? What is this? How did it come to be? All knowledge is mine, and all schemes and plots are forever contained within my being; no such thing should exist without mine knowing. how can such a thing possibly escape my notice?)" He asked himself turning back and forth between the pages reading intently. Long ago, before the time of the Imperium, there was a ritual that would take place on the sacred ground of the City of the Winter Tree. A ritual that entailed the summoning of ancient heroes in the hopes of obtaining the Holy Grail, a magical vessel said to contain the blood of Christ. It was said that this omnipotent vessel could grant any wish to the most worthy Servant and Master.

"(Absurd, )" Laughed the God of Chaos, overlooking the text "(Omnipotence suggests perfection, and perfection is impossible in and of itself. No such being is infallible, where would the fun be if not in anticipating the change only to have perfection completely outmaneuvered by the desire to be imperfect?)"

They very thought of something being omnipotent was beyond ridiculous, but the faith of humanity was not something to be underestimated. They were willing to go beyond the normal means to obtain that which they longed for.

Any normal human could be foolish enough to believe such stories, but not the God of change.

Even though the God found the thought of omnipotence absurd, there was still a hooking factor that interested him so. humanity and the other races had oft spun tales of artifacts containing limitless power, only to have their dreams shattered before their very eyes.

Obviously this 'Holy Grail' was an artifact of great power, and within this artifact was the power to sow the seeds of discord further. It very well might prove to be an artifact worthy of his library.

There was something slightly unsettling about this ritual now when Tzeentch thought more and more into it. How had he not heard of this ritual before? Within his cranium was all the thoughts and answers to all questions ever asked. How had such a thing escaped his unfathomably large wealth of knowledge?

This not only interested the God of Discordial change, but also angered him somewhat. Was there a being out there toying with his knowledge? Had Cegorach seen fit to attempt to throw him out of balance? Was this a goad by the Corpse human inkling to draw his attention? No! of course not! That was an impossibility in and of itself, as a god he was incapable of the same flaws of lesser mortal beings. He was the god of Chaotic Change! There was no escaping his vast wealth of knowledge. There was no truly fooling him, for he was the essence of things as they were. But even so, the God thought to himself about the possibilities or rather impossibilities surrounding this extraordinary happenstance.

"(I must have these answers,)" Said Tzeentch to himself, looking even deeper to the tome. The Mystery quickly being unraveled to him. Seven Servants, and seven masters were to take part in the bloody ritual. Seven Mages chosen by the Grail itself would do battle over its contents. And to accomplish this, they would take a catalyst and from which they would produce a mighty familiar of power far exceeding their own fragile human limits.

This Familiar, this 'Heroic Spirit' would take the role of one of several classes.

Berserker: The Mad Warrior, a hero said to be gripped by insanity in his time, drawing power from his madness, he would crush those who stood before him in a crazed fury.

Saber: Warrior of The Sword, a hero whose skill with the blade was unmatched and their resistance to magic compounded made them the most desired class.

Archer: Warrior of the bow, a hero whose eyesight brought their foes to heel with their range and accuracy.

Lancer: Warrior of the Spear, a hero who boasted the greatest agility in combination with range.

Caster: Mage of Mages, a hero whose skill with magic trumped the very greatest mages on the mortal plane.

Rider: Warrior upon the steed, they who boast momentum and power with their mount.

Assassin: Stalker of the Shadows, he who resides silently and waits when their foe is weakest to strike.

The more that Tzeentch read, the more he realized the rules of this 'Holy Grail War' could be bent. There were no set rules, and yet there were, rules were meant to be broken, if not already bent. Why have rules in the first place then? Ah! It was a simple ritual for lesser mortal beings bound by the concept of order and 'sense' Even his greatest champions were bound by this. But still where there was set order, there was always the chance to muck about in it. The grail seemed bound by its own laws, what would it have to say if he decided he didn't like those laws? What if the God of Change sought fit to change them? Then would the 'Grail' Truly have the power to fool him?

He was not quite as condemning of their natural orderly thought as one would think, but rather found it intriguing. All things began with the sense of order, only to be torn down in chaos. The Ritual itself seemed hell bent on turning those seeking the grail against each other. It pushed them to defy the rules established by the game already to assume absolute victory.

It was perfect.

The Grail toyed with their emotions and their ambitions, transforming them and breaking them slowly but surely. It was as if the Grail itself had a will to break the natural confines of human thought. It was almost as if it too was a god.

"(A slumbering brother? Unknown to the rest? Or Even myself? could that be so? How so? What? Who? How?)" He asked himself, his form shifting and changing with excitement. His great wings fluttering at the prospect. his form convulsed with energy as it shifted from its previous 'physical' appearance into a darkened cloud of power. Carrying the book with his will, he slithered through the air like a wraith, slipping between endless halls of books and spell tomes. Searching for a worthy messenger among the halls of knowledge. He would consult his greatest and most interesting of subjects.

Traveling through the twisted crystalline halls of thought and illusion, the God of Discordial change began to allow his mind to run wild at the prospect; A bit of knowledge like this banished the previous anger and left only excitement. Learning something new was extremely motivating for the god of change, too long had he languished on pointless plots and schemes far too little to have any effect on the greater state of the galaxy.

Even without any inkling of knowledge on the concept of mortal time he still found it to be too long. Too long since something greater happened. How long? Too long, the amount of true time never mattered in this instance.

Even though the small things here and there entertained him he couldn't maintain himself forever on the static state on which things had become.

Chaos had become too normal in this time, it was far too predictable, the schemes never yielded lasting fruit and were often forgotten before they had truly come to fruition. They needed a game changer, something to spice up such boring monotony.

But to do so He would need assistance from the very heart of Chaos; He would need greater sight.

Sitting against a mirror, his twin heads snapping back and forth between one another, whispering intangible riddles between one another, Kairos Fateweaver, greatest lord of change turned towards his master; His fellows recording the ramblings and prophecies to the letter as was their duty.

"(Ah, So the Great Master comes to us,)" Said one head in a hoarse strained voice, insanity long ago gripping his mind. This Lord of Change was the only being in all the universe to which Tzeentch could entrust his confidence to. For Fateweaver was almost as much a god as he was himself. Some part of Tzeentch considered Kairos to be superior in terms of knowledge and insight into the chaotic tendencies of the warp.

The twin avian heads gained from an eternity inside the very essence of the universe spouted forth the insanities that came with knowledge.

As such there was no greater visir to the God of change.

"(For himself? Or for us?)" Said the other snickering

"(For the future? Or for the past?)"

"(For salvation or for damnation?)"

"(For victory or for defeat?)"

"(All is known,)"

"(All is ignorant)"

Tzeentch had long ago cast his greatest into the Well of eternity, seeking the absolute knowledge of the future that had long since been denied to him. But as it seemed, all things had their price, and it was a price the god of change was unwilling to pay himself. Fateweaver had returned changed beyond recognition, aged despite being immortal and powerful enough to rival even his master.

"(Kairos, Greatest of my subjects, I have questions for you my oracle)" Said the God, taking physical form once again, laying the book at his seer's foot. The Greater Daemon looked down at the book and back towards their master.

"(Ah! A question has he!?)" Spoke the left head turning and twisting about madly in excitement tangling itself about around its fellow.

"(An answer have we, or rather two, we know already the question one will ask us)" Said the right in quick response

"(But the question will still be asked, whether from lips or from mind!)"

"(One must find the truth amongst the lie!)"

"(But only if the lie is different from truth!)"

"(But what if nothing is true? And all is the lie?)"

"(Then the lie would be most sweet!, but alas all things are both true and lie,)"

"(Two sides to all stories there are, and only in the middle lies the truth)"

Tzeentch narrowed his many eyes towards his babbling oracle. In all the infinite space of the universe, there was only one who could possibly cause his mind to stir so. The twin heads were nothing new, but even so Kairos never failed to entertain his master in such ways.

"(Tell me Kairos, how is it that this ritual escaped my knowledge? What is this 'Holy Grail?)" asked the god of Discordial change to his vizir. Fateweaver's answer was almost immediate

"(It is because the knowledge did not exist in the mind of our lord, He was incapable of seeing the truth behind the limits to his own power)" Came the voice from the right head, its mouth watering and drooling about in its madness

"(No! It was because our lord was incapable of knowing such out of the sheer volume of his own power, the knowledge was always there, hidden, buried away in the crevices of fate and sorcery, Such power is incapable of being conceived by those above mortal whims)" Said the voice in opposition

Tzeentch took a second to ponder over what had just been said, as expected of Kairos his answers were both swift and possible, but only one could be truth. Even sometimes the great lord of change himself was unable to discern the great riddles of fateweaver. Such was the limit posed by those restricted by the confines of sanity.

That pointed towards the former; but at the same time, there was only a matter of time before he solved them each and every single time when he produced the question. And as it was only a means of finding the answer it would indicate there was no limit to his mind and his power. There was never any limit to the power of the mind when presented with an obstacle

A great time Tzeentch pondered about on the answers, seeking the truth amongst the lie, but Pushing aside the presence of the absence of information he turned to fateweaver for his second set of answers. It was this which truly made him intrigued.

"(The Grail is omniscient, all powerful and ultimately indestructible, it's very nature cries out for the chaotic tendency of all beings in the world, it is the great summoner of the servants and intricate weaver of fate, it is the god of all evil)" came the response from the right head

"(The Grail is nothing more than an illusion, created by the desperate in thought to seek answers, it is frail and sickly, and the Summoners command it, not the other way around, it's spirit is simply that of a boy, tortured and torn by madness)" spoke the left head in its coarse voice

It was a set of answers the Chaos god of Change had been expecting somewhat, but ultimately had no real answer to. Which was it though? Kairos always was correct in one matter or the other. But which was it? Could it be both? No! One head always spoke the truth, and the other always a lie, a contradictory lie at that. There was no way it could be both, however, what if it was? What if both were true and both were lie? What if everything was simply according to what has been said? What if both answers were both equally right and wrong?

"(So, the Grail is something that does hold sway over the whims of the Warp?)" He Asked looking into the picture of madness that was Fateweaver's disfigured visage

"(No! The grail holds no sway where there is nothing to be gained, no! It is a useless trinket incapable of swaying those who do not wish of it, a simple empty dream for those fruitlessly chasing its contents)" Shouted the right head twisting about and rotating on its joints like a great pinwheel

"(The hearts of all men are capable of being swayed, the Grail has the tool to create such change even where change would seem impossible, its very nature moves men to action and creates rifts in the warp with its desire; it is the ultimate prize)" came the response from the left head leaning down and encircling the already twisting right head

Kairos Fateweaver slid his mutilated aged hand over the cover of the book, his eyes glowing with the power of the ages. Blueish lightning arced over his fiendish figure, imbuing him with the full power of the Crystal Labyrinth, change incarnate, the flowing power of chaos, whimsically changing between contradictory threads of fate, intangible and yet completely understandable. Truth and lie linked together in an intricate and beautiful dance.

"(The time shall soon come,)" He began, his voice shaking with the Ruinous powers. His eyes glowed a hot bluish white and began to spark once again "(Heroes shall rise, Shadows of the past)"

"(And yet more powerful than ever before)" Shouted the other head writhing with Fateweaver's prophetic visions.

A Flash of Red!

Steel on Steel!

A Great Vessel!

A Night of Passion!

A Golden blade!

Revenge!

Deceit!

Love!

Loss!

"(The Fate of the Galaxy shall be determined,)" Said the other withering lightly in its voice, but nonetheless showing power all of its own..

"(Gods shall walk amongst men! And the Galaxy will burn with the light of a Billion dying worlds!)" Said the other, its eyes glowing ever brighter. The entire room fell silent, and even his brethren lords had ceased their writing, all to gaze upon their greatest. Captivated were they so by this event, such a thing had not happened before. Never had Kairos given such a vivid tale of the Future.

"(The Grail Shall usher in a new age! New Gods shall be born! Old ones will fall! THE SKIES SHALL GROW DARK!)"

Kairos Fateweaver had begun his ascent into the air, his fragile form bursting and cooking with the entire crystal labyrinth at his touch. All the Skeins of Fate wrapped around him like a beautiful black quilt of power. All their threads showed the same set of fates over and over again. Nothing but Darkness incarnate, the total absence of being. A complete stillness.

The Greatest lord of change began to descend, and the light began to fade from his eyes, but not before uttering one last line.

"(Not an End, But a beginning,)" Spoke both heads simultaneously.

The eyes of all eighty one lords of change inhabiting the chamber went wide with this utterance. Never before had both heads spoke in such certainty. Never had there been a consensus between the two. What was happening?

However the god of discordial change simply sat there, his form ever changing and shifting. And thusly his expression remained unreadable. Although the air around him simply burned with excitement and joy. nothing could deny his will now.

"(One Last thing, Kairos, my old friend….Can the grail….truly grant any wish?)" He asked. even without a mouth, his ghostly form asked with such presence that no one dared breath or raise their bowed heads an inch.

And once again, the Greatest Lord of Change raised both heads to his master. And both in Unison said the one word that would forever change the Galaxy.

"(Yes)" Both heads spoke, their faces smiling mischievously.

**Craftworld Biel-Tan: Current Location, Segmentum Ultima. Korianis Sector**

There was a silence throughout the Craftworld of Biel Tan as it traversed its lonely way through the shadows of space. The enormous drifting spacecraft was almost as alive as its inhabitants. The Eldar were an enigmatic race to a great many people, but even so one could understand the weight of the sorrow that gripped the Eldar of this particular craftworld. The somber nature of the people seemed to leak even into the Infinity Circuit itself, permeating the air with a generally somber mood.

Deep within the Craftworld in the Chamber of Seers Farseer Macha sat in meditation. Her mind pried about the Skeins of Fate, but at every turn the branching possibilities and fates seemed to darken and end only in blackness. It was not the darkness of death, nor the shadow caused by the overpowering nature of the Great Devourer. It was rather like those lines of fate did not exist at all. It was like the thread simply ended without reason almost as if the possibility of other fates simply didn't exist. They either became dark and ended abruptly, or carried on to another line that led back to the exact same place as before.

It was almost as if the Fates were attempting to tell her there was only one path to follow and that path must be followed to its very end. But Macha could not see that far, not because of the branching possibilities as is the norm, but because of the very unusual darkening that came the further she looked.

She could see where the line began quite clearly. The fateful day she had failed to stop the Mon Keigh Space Marine captain releasing the Daemon from within the Maledictum. It twisted about and followed afterwards in a tangled line that connected her fate with that of his in an indirect fashion. Whenever there was possibility of something different happening, it simply ceased to be.

Such a thing she had never experienced in her time as Farseer. A great many times she encountered the paradox of reverse causality (unintentionally causing the future by acting upon it),but those all felt different from this.

She could no longer hear the thoughts of the seers crystallized in the Infinity Circuit around her, normally she could seek them out for guidance, but their minds had grown dark as well. Something was intentionally shadowing the Skeins of Fate if not even the greatest of her kind could reach out from the craftworld to the greater part of the universe.

It did not bode well at all. She wondered for a moment if it could be the work of 'She who thirsts' or perhaps the Necrontyr, but if that were the case why had they not attacked yet?

Macha opened her eyes and with a loud growl realized that she had not slept since the dawn of the cycle twice beforehand. Her meditation had taken up most of her time since then and the farseer was loath to undivine the nature of this shadow dominating the Skeins of Fate as of late. She wondered if her predecessor had seen the shadow before his departure to the Mon Keigh Planet of Typhon.

The thought of his death there amidst the fires of the Exterminatus reminded her of the fate of all those Eldar. The thought of She who Thirsts lingered in her mind, haunting her and reminding her of what awaited so many souls left behind on Typhon.

The Banshees she had sent to observe the aftermath had returned with grave news, every single biodome and every spirit stone had been utterly destroyed in the wake of the exterminatus. The entire Seer council had been annihilated in one fell swoop. Murdered by the Mon Keigh Space Marines and their zealous idiocy.

Macha realized that, aside from a few Warlocks, she was alone on her path now. The entire responsibility of the craftworld lay on her shoulders, and considering her utter failure on Tartarus, the rest of her Kin were skeptical of her ability to lead them safely through this time of sorrow. Needless to say, the Farseer had her own doubts as well.

Blow after blow had been dealt to the Craftworld over the past decades, and now the vision of restoring the Eldar to their glory seemed all the more far fetched. If they could even survive this it would be enough for the Farseer. She shared much sentiment in the longing for the Eldar to flourish, but at the same time she wondered if this was a sign that perhaps it was never to be.

Deciding that a walk would do her well, the Farseer stepped out of the Chamber of Seers and into the Dome of Eternal Snows. The ice and fresh virgin snow crunched beneath her feet as the glorious mixture of winter and spring collided in this place of dreams. Even now she was enraptured by the beauty of Biel Tan; its domes rising high above her, encompassing the beauty that once was commonplace on Eldar worlds of old.

A beauty that now seemed all but lost save for these lingering fragments.

Macha couldn't help but feel inspiration in this place, she began to wonder if the Skien had darkened because of her people's own grief, or perhaps something far greater and more ancient was behind such things? Those thoughts did not sit well with the farseer, she couldn't remember a time at all in Eldar history of such an event.

Choosing a spot near a spring of multi colored water, she sat in the snow and withdrew several more Runes from her bag. There was of course her own Rune, her sense of self and her connection to the greater part of the warp. She allowed herself to relax here in this place where the snow felt warm beneath her knees, she felt her soul becoming stretched from her being, her mind was beginning to free from the confines of her fragile and mortal form. She felt herself once again faced with the incredible darkness that encompassed the skeins of fate, The once bustling palette of colors and emotions and twisting occurrences had all been but absolutely blackened. Only the Craftworld behind her and the infinity circuit seemed to glow in this place and even there it was weak,

There seemed something different about it now though, there was something else in the threads of fate, she could feel its presence; overbearing and utterly malicious. But it was strange to her, she had expected the bubbling cauldron of emotions notably associated with the great enemy, or the cold stillness that defined the necrontyr, or even the prevailing hunger that lingered with the shadow of the Hive mind.

She could feel something similar to hunger, but not Primal enough. Whatever it was, she could feel its intelligence, its gaze was upon her even though it, like she, had no eyes from which to see from. It was old, she could tell that much just by the lingering aura of stagnation.

It was then that the Farseer found another Run floating up around her in the midst of this place, one of the older and much more powerful Runes. The Eye of Eldanesh, The Raven, the wayward guide. She knew not of where it would lead her, but she felt that this line of destiny could not be avoided and that perhaps it would lead her to the source of whatever dared darken the skeins of fate.

And thus ends the prologue to my newest machination I'll probably never Fully finish. If there are any questions, legitimate concerns, or criticisms I will do my best to acknowledge them and rectify them. I just felt like this project needed to get off the ground and hopefully it is successful will mean something more for the future.

_Warhammer 40,000 and Fate/Stay Night and all their trademarked titles, names, characters, and all other forms of copyrighted material are the property of Games Workshop and Type Moon. This is a work of Fanfiction and as such has no intent to collect revenue of any kind from the respective copyright owner's material._

_Meaning I don't own over half the shit here so don't think it belongs to me, I'm just an overly obsessed overly imaginative (Or not so much) fangirl with far too much time on her hands._


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